


Rescue, 1872

by Amuly



Series: Marvel's 1872 [2]
Category: Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Western, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Female Homosexuality, Female-Centric, Femslash, Fingerfucking, Manhandling, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, POV Female Character, Vaginal Fingering, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A normal day in the small, midwest town of Rescue, where Wanda comes home after a day working in the saloon to her wife Carol, who she finds fixing their roof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescue, 1872

The sun was slanting low on the endless horizon, red and orange light stabbing over rooftops and reflecting off the gas lamps, illuminating the glass and metal with nature's oldest fire. Wanda lifted one hand to her eyes, the other bunching up her dress as she walked the dusty walk home. She could see a figure on her roof, a striking silhouette of browns against the bright light of the afternoon. The silhouette moved with both grace and strength, with the occasional flash of golden blonde tucked tight beneath its cap.

Wanda observed her lover work with the quiet satisfaction of possession. Slowly the figure grew bigger as Wanda's footsteps brought her closer. What was a few minutes ago indistinct browns and shadow solidified into trousers, an undershirt, broad shoulders, well-muscled arms. Wanda smiled as her lovely finally looked up from her work, squinting through the dying sunlight at the road Wanda traveled.

“Wanda!”

Wanda smiled as Carol waved at her from her perch on their roof. She waved back less boyishly, fingers curling in dainty movements beneath her glove. Her boots finally brought her just out from the roof of her home, neck tilted back and hand shading her eyes as she peered up at Carol.

“What _are_ you doing up there?” Wanda asked.

Grabbing a bucket next to her, Carol rattled it. The sound of metal jangling against metal drifted down to Wanda. “Patching the roof.”

“We didn't have any leaks.”

Carol frowned, eyes lifting from Wanda on the ground to scan the endless horizon. “We will. Storm's coming.”

Wanda hummed, looking back over her shoulder. Back towards their town, lying bare in the great big West. Wanda shivered in the summer heat.

“You're right.” One last look, and Wanda craned her neck back up to Carol. “Do you need help? I could change...”

Carol shook her head, smile lighting her face once more. “Nah. Almost done. No use you getting sweaty with me.”

“Well...” Wanda hummed.

Carol scoffed and ducked her head, though with her cheeks already red from a day spent in the sun it was a pointless gesture. “Later,” Carol finally promised, though it was a quiet one.

“I'll get some food on the stove, yes?” Wanda told her.

Carol beamed. “Absolutely. Sounds amazing. I won't be up here more than another hour. Break my neck trying to get down if I let the light go.”

“For some reason I know you'd manage,” Wanda mused. “But good. Enough time for you to clean up and help me finish.”

Carol tugged her cap off, scratching at the mane of blonde hair she had hidden beneath it before tugging it back on. “What, no dirty joke about 'finishing'?”

Wanda pretended to frown. “No. I just said: _you'll_ help me finish. No fun doing it myself.”

Carol groaned and picked up her hammer, twirling it around deftly in her hand. “Set myself up for that.”

“I'll see you inside, lovely.” Wanda blew her a kiss for good measure, laughing gaily when Carol ducked it in favor of focusing on her hammering.

Stopping inside the door long enough to unlace her boots, Wanda took a minute to scrub the dust and saloon smoke from her skin. She turned the spigot in her kitchen and water poured forth, sputtering and muddy for the first second, but then flowing clear and steady. Wanda marveled at the contraption for a long moment: the Stark-pipe (though Sheriff Rogers kept begging someone to come up with a better name). Wanda's fingers ran under the spigot, tickling through the cool water. Stark could put his name on every damn invention if he liked (and he did) Wanda was just grateful for the marvel.

Flicking a few droplets onto her neck, Wanda roused herself to her chores. Carol's steady hammer blows above her head formed some sort of ambient beat, and Wanda found herself humming a tune from far away and long ago as she worked.

The vegetables were all peeled and chopped by the time the hammer above her head fell to silence. Wanda's lips curled into a smile as she listened to Carol clamber off the roof. By the time the door opened Wanda has the vegetables boiling and was unpacking the rabbit meat she'd brought home.

Strong, uncomfortably warm arms wrapped around Wanda's waist, sharp chin coming to rest on her shoulder. Wanda smiled as she leaned back into the embrace, hands working the seasoning into the rabbit meat by rote rather than any real attention.

“Long day in town?”

Wanda breathed deep, smelling the sunlight on Carol's skin. “Not as long as a day in the sun.”

One hand reached up to brush the curly hair from Wanda's neck. Carol's lips pressed to Wanda's throat, under her jaw. Wanda tilted her head, happy to accept the affection. Her hands stilled over the rabbit meat on her counter as she swayed against Carol, eyes closing into the embrace.

“You smell like saloon smoke,” Carol commented.

Wanda laughed, pressing her nose into Carol's cheek. “And you smell like sweat and sunlight.”

Carol's arms squeezed tighter around Wanda for a moment. “Put me to work?” Her lips mouthed the words against Wanda's neck.

“Wash up, set the table. Strain some water through the Stark-skimmer?”

Placing one last kiss to Wanda's neck, Carol's fingers skimmed through Wanda's hair before she stepped away. “You mean the water cleaner?”

Wanda smiled as she focused on the rabbit in front of her. “Is that what the sheriff is trying to get us to call it?”

Carol snorted. Wanda glanced over her shoulder as Carol stripped down to her underclothes and scrubbed herself down roughly with the ash and fat soap and a wash cloth. Her cap was tossed aside, blonde hair exploding out from beneath it to tumble down her body like bales of hay adrift in a tornado. Wanda didn't let her eyes linger too long over Carol's strong muscles, the golden sheen her skin gained a week into spring every year and didn't lose until November. Wanda looked back down at her own hands, her dusky complexion darker than most in town (besides a few notable exceptions, like Deputy Wilson and Mr. Rhodes). When she had first come here with her noticeably lighter-skinned brother, Wanda had worried it would set her apart, mark her off as an “other”. More than once she had been mistaken for a Native on the road out West, sometimes with malicious intent. But then she and Pietro had washed up in Rescue, and suddenly it hadn't mattered. Whether it was Sheriff Rogers' no-tolerance influence dropping an invisible dome of protection over the town, or the fact that Rescue was filled with similar folk, all running from or looking for something, Wanda wasn't sure. She just knew that for the first time since leaving the Old Country, she felt safe. And when she met Carol: at home.

When the meat was finally seasoned and roasting on the stove, Wanda seated herself at their single table and watched Carol putter around: slipping on clean trousers and undershirt, suspenders hanging off her trousers and bumping her knees where she didn't bother to tug them on. As she poured water through the strainer, she took the first glass for herself, swallowing it in just a few long pulls. Then she poured the second glass for Wanda, handing it off with a kiss. Wanda smiled and accepted it gratefully, clearing what felt like the last of the dust from the road with the cool liquid.

“Did you get the rabbit from Barton?” Carol asked as she poured herself a second cup. She sat and sipped at this more slowly than her first, hands wrapped around the cool glass.

“Do you mean the Barton that's a Barton or the Barton that's a Bishop?” Wanda asked with a smile. Carol snorted and rolled her eyes, tapped at her glass in a way that said _You know what I meant_.

“Mr. Barton, yes,” Wanda replied, confirming Carol's speculation. “Though Ms. Bishop was there, like a little rabbit herself.”

“How was the saloon? Town?” Carol's fingers drummed on the side of her glass. “I should head in tomorrow. Don't need anything, but. Just to see how things are.”

“We can go in together. Stop by the post and see if my brother's in. Have lunch with Ms. van Dyne? You haven't seen her in weeks.”

Carol nodded, smiling faintly. “You're right. Yeah, we'll have a day. Though maybe I'll skip over the post office, I'm sure I don't have any mail...”

Wanda tutted at her lovely, casting her a sharp look with disapproving green eyes. “He's hardly ever here. When he is-”

Carol sighed and reached across their small table, taking Wanda's hands in her own. She raised one, then the other, to her lips and kissed them in turn. When she set them back on the table she didn't release them, instead squeezing them slightly. “For you, I'll go to the post office. And even be nice. You know I just like to tease him.”

“And you know he's my only family in this whole country, sea to sea,” Wanda reminded her.

Carol's eyes drooped, her shoulders sagged. Belatedly Wanda realized what she had said and sighed, clutching at Carol's hands as she tried to pull away.

“Except for you.”

Carol smiled, but some of the summertime sunshine was missing from it. Pushing herself up from her chair, Wanda clambered over to Carol. Bunching up her dress, Wanda deposited herself in Carol's lap. Carol's hands came up automatically, holding at Wanda's waist as her head tilted back to look up at her. With one hand holding her own mess of curls back, Wanda swooped in and kissed Carol firmly, passionately. Carol's body responded to her touch, whether her heart was still doubtful or not. Wanda sighed into the kiss, left hand coming up to cup at Carol's jaw, holding her in place as she deepened the movements of her lips, her tongue. Any last reluctance Carol was holding onto melted away in the face of such a relentless, genuine assault.

“Except for you,” Wanda repeated as she pulled away. Carol's mouth was still hanging open, blue eyes darting between Wanda's green ones with something like stunned admiration. Privately, Wanda preened.

“I believe you,” Carol replied, breathlessly. Her hand reached up to brush through Wanda's hair, fingers tangling in her curls. Her palm pressed flat against the back of Wanda's head, tugging her gently back into another kiss. Wanda went happily, body melting into her lovers, lips singing with her touch.

The smell of rabbit cooking on the stove was the only thing that roused Wanda from her lovely, pulling her away from such indulgences in favor of the basic necessities of supper. Carol huffed as Wanda slid from her lap, skirts falling back down as she hurried over to their cast iron stove.

“Any interesting news from the saloon today?” Carol asked as Wanda tugged the food from the stove and began to dish it out.

Wanda shook her head. “Sheriff Rogers and Deputy Wilson stopped in for their usual sweep. Mr. Stark was there, for his usual sweep of Sheriff Rogers.”

“Ms. van Dyne sent a letter last week saying Mr. Stark had finally worn the sheriff down,” Carol observed.

Wanda shook her head, eyes sparkling. "Certainly not. Sheriff Rogers remains as irritated by Mr. Stark's cavalier attitude towards everything as ever.”

“Ms. van Dyne says she heard all the proof she needed to the night of Sheriff Rogers' birthday,” Carol told her. She raised her eyebrows significantly as Wanda handed her a plate full of supper.

Wanda gasped, then ducked her head as she sat down with her own plate. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah. _Oh_ ,” Carol replied around a mouthful of rabbit. “You think they'll be any more tolerable around each other now that they're finally...” Carol started to gesture, then stopped. She poked her two index fingers at each other curiously. “Doing whatever two men do together. I suppose they use their hands?”

Wanda shook her head, nose scrunching up. “I'd rather not 'suppose', thank you. And it would appear not, since Sheriff Roger's birthday is over a week passed, and they're still at it like cats and dogs.”

“Cats and dogs are better mannered to each other than those two. Like a snake and a mongoose.”

Wanda giggled as she bit down on a boiled carrot. “I'm sure Mr. Stark would argue he's the snake.”

Carol laughed with her, almost spitting out her water as she swallowed around bubbling giggles.

Later, while Wanda cleaned up the dishes, Carol walked around the perimeter of their house one more time, checking lines, traps, fence posts and gas lights. She tapped under the porch with a stick, stomped her boots across the property, eyes scanning the dark horizon for eyes glimmering back at her. She had her rifle with her, loaded and slung over one shoulder. Wanda watched her through the kitchen window, listening for her when Carol walked out of her sightline.

When she returned Carol locked up the house: door tight and jammed, windows cracked for airflow but secured from the inside. Carol nodded and smiled tightly at Wanda as she completed her rituals. Wanda tugged her towards her, sighing as she pulled her lovely into a kiss. “Everything's fine,” she told her.

Carol frowned into the kiss. She allowed herself to be dragged over to their bed, but couldn't help arguing: “Forgive me if I don't trust your magic plants and trinkets to keep us safe.”

Wanda pushed Carol down onto their bed, slipping her dress off with ease, unlacing her underclothes with practiced fingers. Carol slipped her own trousers off, suspenders clattering as she tossed them to the floor. Her undershirt was thrown away, revealing swaths of skin in Carol's natural pale complexion. Wanda sighed in contentment as the last of her own clothes fell away and she could slide into bed, press her skin to her lover's. Carol gasped and arched into her, hands skimming familiarly over Wanda's shoulders, back, thighs.

“You keep me safe your way,” Wanda told Carol, kissing her lips, then neck. “And I'll keep you safe mine. New world and old, just to be safe.” She nuzzled at Carol's jaw before drifting lower, taking one of Carol's pink nipples into her mouth. Carol gasped and sighed, one hand running through Wanda's hair, the other slipping down her back.

The sound of Carol groaning above her and the salty taste of her skin in her mouth had Wanda wet and wanting in short order. She lifted her head and slid back up to kiss Carol's mouth, even as she moved to straddle Carol's thighs. Carol's hips moved up against her, seeking friction and contact but not quite getting it. Wanda's body responded in kind, searching for that touch.

“I love you,” Wanda told Carol as she shifted, settled so she had one thigh between Carol's legs and Carol had one thigh between hers. Carol groaned as she moved up against it, finally receiving some of the friction she needed.

“I love you, too,” Carol told her. “Been waiting for you all day.”

Wanda reached down between Carol's thighs, fingers parting her hair and folds carefully before pressing against her. Carol moaned, body moving more firmly against Wanda's. Gently Wanda massaged her as Carol rutted against her thigh, smearing it with sticky moisture. Wanda swallowed her moans with another kiss, seeking her own pleasure as her hips rolled against Carol's thigh.

After a minute Carol shook her head and pulled back, gasping. “Lower, lower. Please. I want-”

“-inside, for the first one.” Wanda nodded, nose brushing Carol's cheek. Her hand drifted lower, three fingers breaching Carol even as Carol shuddered beneath her. “I know, love.”

“Harder,” Carol moaned, even as Wanda was doing just that. Wanda pulled back, just enough so she could watch Carol reach her first pleasure. Carol was tight and hot around her, moisture coating her fingers and already leaking down, smearing between Wanda's knuckles. Wanda bit her lip as her own arousal called to her, body jealous of the release Carol was so close to.

Carol found that release with a shout, eyes squeezing shut as one hand gripped at Wanda's thigh, grinding her closer. Wanda's fingers pumped inside her through it, making Carol's body shake with the aftershocks of her pleasure, like the ground after an earthquake had passed. Wanda didn't let up until Carol's body stopped clenching around her, until it went slack with release. Even then, she only pulled her fingers out so far, massaging instead at the soft tissue just above her entrance. Carol groaned but didn't stop her, body rolling down against her fingers.

“You haven't-”

Wanda kissed her, quieting her protests. She always did that: protest, afterwards. As if Wanda wouldn't receive her own release soon enough. Wanda slid up Carol's thigh, bringing her hips close enough that Carol's hand could reach her, press between her legs with purpose. Wanda's womanhood clenched as Carol's fingers darted against her, sweeping through the wetness she was leaking everywhere. Her nipples hardened as she moved against Carol's thigh and hands, arousal already so eager to crest.

“Come here. Bend down, I want...” Carol reached up with her free hand to grasp at Wanda's breast, squeezing meaningfully. Wanda gasped when Carol pinched her nipple, dragging her down to where she wanted her. When Carol took one nipple into her mouth, a moan was pulled from Wanda's throat. Pleasure spiked through her, an ever-building line of fire between her breasts and thighs, stoked by Carol's clever hands and sweet mouth. Carol's fingers rubbed and Wanda's body clenched. Carol's mouth sucked and Wanda's body opened, eager, wanting, wanting.

“ _Faster_ ,” Wanda begged, and Carol's fingers rubbed faster. Wanda tensed, arousal on the brink, breath coming faster and faster. Carol switched breasts, rubbing at the abandoned one even as the air cooled her spit, making Wanda's nipple go hard with the contrast. Wanda's womanhood leaked more as Carol rubbed faster, sending her arousal soaring, her body gaping, until it all crashed down, until the fire roared past its lines. Wanda cried out as her arousal crested, body clenching hard against Carol's thigh as she moved and moved and moved against her. Carol's fingers rubbed her through it, a frantic pace now as Wanda held on tight and milked herself against Carol's body.

“One more,” Carol told her, grinning.

“Not yet-”

But Carol was already moving, grabbing at Wanda's waist and tossing her backwards on their bed. Wanda's body throbbed with renewed interest as Carol manhandled her, appeared above her with bulging arms and heaving breasts. Wanda gasped and touched herself almost unconsciously, overwhelmed by how much she loved Carol, how attracted she was to her (both physically and otherwise). Carol frowned down at her, slapping the hand away as she replaced it with her own. Wanda's body shook as Carol pressed inside her, fingers rubbing up against her innermost walls. Reaching out, Wanda grabbed at one of Carol's arms, if only to ground herself. Carol grinned.

“One more,” she told Wanda again. Wanda shook her head.

“It's too soon. I can do you-”

But Carol's fingers were working inside her, pumping roughly, and Wanda knew Carol was right. She was going to wring another such pleasure from her, now, no waiting. Wanda's hips bucked and she groaned. Carol plundered her roughly, and Wanda bit her lips, trembling. Her arousal built again, but already higher than before, already a staircase above where she was to start. Carol's thumb, wet with Wanda's own fluids, reached up to rub at the nub above her entrance. Wanda cried out as even more pleasure rushed through her, eyes squeezing shut tight against the onslaught.

“One more?” Carol said again, except this time it was a question.

Wanda nodded fiercely, gasping, panting, already so close, too close, almost. “One more,” she gasped. “One...” she moaned, voice gone high with pleasure. Her breasts heaved, hips bouncing on Carol's hand as her fingers stabbed inside her, forcing her pleasure to new heights. “One...”

Wanda's arousal washed over her with the gentleness of a tidal wave. She cried out, body shaking and trembling with the force of it, skin flush with sweat and shivering with pleasure. Carol's fingers were still pounding inside her, too much, more pleasure than Wanda could enjoy, could possibly stand. But Carol knew her, knew her body, and guided Wanda through the tumultuous seas of pleasure until Wanda found herself awash on the shore, breathless, wet, and shaking.

“I love you,” Wanda gasped, breath still uncaught.

Carol grinned down at her, cheeks flushed pink, eyes gleaming.

“What about...?”

Carol flushed harder, held up her left hand. It was wet. “I finished again while you were.” Leaning down to kiss her in apology, Carol offered: “You were too beautiful like that. Wanton, spread out on my bed sheets. I couldn't help myself.”

Wanda smiled, eyes drifting closed as sleep rushed to claim her. Belatedly she realized they were lying with their heads at the foot of the bed. She lifted her head and laughed as she took in their position.

Once they were turned back around, heads on pillows and feet at the footboard, Wanda stretched out and sighed, turning away from Carol. “Goodnight, my lovely,” she murmured.

A kiss, pressed into her tangle of amber curls. “Goodnight, gorgeous,” Carol mumbled back.

Wanda sighed, and her eyes closed. And their home was bright with their happiness for long enough for her to slip into an untroubled sleep.

* * *

That night, something sounded from out in the darkness. Carol woke, sweat cold on her chest even though the night air was warm, uncomfortably so. Carol looked to her wife lying next to her, countenance undisturbed by troubles, easy and relaxed in sleep. Carol lay still, eyes trained on the easy rise and fall of Wanda's chest, bare nipples dark in the dim light of a single gas lamp, a quarter mile down the road.

There was no sound, no. Nothing to keep Carol on alert. She should have fallen back to sleep. Should have shrugged off her sudden wakefulness as a coon's hands scratching as it rummaged through their trash, a hyena's teeth crunching as it picked at old bones, an owl's wings brushing their roof as it swooped down to snatch a field mouse.

But it was none of these things, Carol knew. Some thing had woken her and it wasn't life on the prairie. Except, of course, that's exactly what it was.

Silent as Barton hunting game, Carol slipped from her bed. Her skin pimpled in the warm night air. Something not right. Her bare feet were quiet as she padded across their wood floors, skipping the creaky parts with uncanny good luck. Carol picked up her gun, a shirt, and a hand held gas lamp before heading outside. She slipped on her boots from the porch, shaking them out before slipping them on.

The town glimmered in the night, a mile and a half in the distance. Dust settled at night, giving Carol a clear look through the darkness, each light crisp and bright. Not many house lights were on at this hour, but Stark's gas lamps were a straight line, a man-made constellation for the beleaguered sailor on the plains to guide them home. Carol's sharp eyes counted them, stopping at the one closest to their home, a quarter mile down the road.

Her count came up one short. Stiff as a rattler ready to strike, Carol lowered herself into her rocking chair on the porch. Her rifle lay across her lap, hands clenched securely around it. Her eyes stayed forward, watching the gas lamps. Waiting for her count to come up right. Behind her, safe in their home, Wanda slept through the night. Her wife kept her vigil, guarding her from the creeping dark.

 


End file.
